Those Who Fight Monsters: Tales of Occult Detectives

When the psychic frowned, Dawn knew he’d come up blank.

“Why do you think Gigi waited so long to show up here after all these years?” she asked. “Why didn’t she come to the Bahia to hang out just after her death?”

“I thought that’s why you two were here — so you could ask her about that stuff. That’s what most of you paranormal types do, with your societies, right? But I don’t mind. Gigi’s been a draw, bringing us a little more business since word got out about her.”

Kiko wandered toward the stage, avoiding this subject. He’d told Tigerman that he was a garden-variety paranormal enthusiast, creating the impression that there’d be some free publicity from an article Kiko said he’d write for a trade journal.

Bullshit. He and Dawn were only here to find out if Gigi was the last surviving remnant of the vampire Underground they’d destroyed in Hollywood. If she was, they’d deal with her.

Dawn felt her skin prickle on her right side. She waited for the heaviness in the middle of her own body to weigh her down, too, just like it had before she’d gone into self-imposed exile after the last Underground — the one in London — had been vanquished.

Rehab. That’s what her lover and companion, Costin, called it.

As a former vampire who’d been turned human again with the termination of her maker, Dawn knew just what it was like to feel the darkness as it tried to drag you under.

The chill came to her again, but this time, there was valid reason for it.

A curtain by the stage.

A hand that appeared briefly before disappearing behind the velvet, leaving it stirring.

Adrenaline rose in Dawn, leaving her heartbeat sharp and fast.

But no one else had seen. In fact, Tigerman left Dawn standing there as he caught up to Kiko, then began leading them backstage. Kiko slowed down to talk to Dawn, cocking his eyebrow as she sent one last look to that stilled curtain. Maybe she’d just been imagining things, if Kik hadn’t sensed anything amiss.

“Tigerman was closed off,” the psychic whispered to her. “He blocked out my touch reading.”

“Not everyone is open to them.”

“Bad guys never really are.”

As they followed Tigerman out a side door, Dawn’s skin kept crawling, and it wasn’t just because of what she thought she’d seen back in that showroom.

They’d agreed that Kiko’s hotel room was the best place to talk in private. Dawn perched on the king-sized mattress, opposite where the psychic was leaning against the dresser. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and didn’t much care for what she saw. Dawn didn’t look like a normal person, even with makeup covering the black marks on one side of her face — her very own physical manifestation of the anger in her soul. The splotches of red on the other side were a souvenir from the dying high master of the Undergrounds, who’d splashed her with his blood. Thank God they just looked like inexplicable tattoos.

“So how’re … things … right now?” Kiko asked.

“Things?”

“You know.”

Dawn shot him a sarcastic glance. “All we’ve done so far is tour the showroom and backstage. Things are cool.”

“But we’ll be going back to get readings with my equipment. I just wanted to see if you need … well, rest. Stuff.”

“Kik, this isn’t so bad when you consider that my days used to consist of slicing off vamp heads.”

“Are you sure that—” Kiko started.

“Hey — I won’t turn into a raging monster that’ll bite your head off because Costin’s not around to temper me.” She took a long breath and made herself relax. “Besides, before he got me to the airport this morning, he took care of me.”

Just like every morning, they woke up before sunrise and Costin had used his psychic energies to push back the dragon’s blood that always threatened to join with the vampire darkness inside her. With the death of her own maker, she’d gone human again, but the heaviness within had remained, growing in force and hunger until Costin had found a way to curb it. He kept the dragon away from the soul stain, because they feared a collision would resurrect the big master … in her.

“I’m sure you’re as mellow as ever, Deepak,” Kiko said, “but I’ll get you back to San Diego by tomorrow morning so you can be with Costin anyway. I just wanted your take on Gigi here.”

“If she turns out not to be a ghost, Costin’s gonna join us, you know.”

“Yeah.” Kiko didn’t sound happy. Not because he didn’t like Costin, but because if Gigi wasn’t a ghost, that’d throw a curveball into their new lives.

“Before Tigerman gave us the tour,” he continued, “I didn’t realize that Gigi has been appearing to everyone in her prime, just like she never aged a day past her supposed death decades ago. But I guess her looking that way would make sense if she’s a ghost now. I mean, there’ve been plenty of reports of spectral Elvises and Marilyn Monroes who show themselves at the peaks of their gorgeousness, before they went downhill.”

“So that proves Gigi’s a ghost, and not a humanized survivor of the Underground?”